Momma's Baby
by M. Rhae
Summary: Everyone knows what happened when Carrie ran into Corrine on that fateful day in Charlottesville, but what about Corrine? How did SHE feel when she saw her youngest child? Was she still completely evil then, or did she feel any pain or remorse? Is there any chance that the two could have reconciled? A glance into Corrine's mind and a look into her heart.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Dollanganger Series.

 **A/N:** Hi, everyone! I've recently begun reading the _Dollanganger Series (_ in addition to watching the Lifetime movies), and I have fallen completely in love with it. I wish I had read it sooner because I love the complexities of the characters!

I've written a little drabble here about how Corrine might have felt when she ran into Carrie on that fateful day in Charlottesville, and I hope to write a longer, more intricate story starring Corrine and the crew. Please read, enjoy, and let me know what you think! Thanks!

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 **Momma's Baby**

"Momma?"

At first, Corrine didn't turn when that small, incredulous voice called out that infamous word. In the busy streets of Charlottesville, it wasn't uncommon for children to cry out for their mothers. The simple, everyday folk let their children run wild in the streets on the weekends, so naturally the savage brutes would desperately call out for their parents that so carelessly lost sight of them. It was indeed a busy day in the historical part of Main Street, so of course something like that was bound to happen.

With that, Corrine simply kept walking, admiring her white platform sandals. She didn't honestly care that some child became separated from her mother, and besides – Corrine Winslow didn't have any children, so why would anyone say that to _her_?

But when, braver and closer now, the light voice again called out "Momma," Corrine finally turned. Standing before her dressed in a light blue dress was a short, petite woman with long blonde curls and striking blue eyes. She had a bright pink ribbon tied into her ponytail, and her eyes, those achingly familiar eyes, stared into hers with a sudden flash of recognition and shock.

 _Carrie._ There was no doubt about it. Her face, once so pale from the enclosure of the attic, gleamed with a light, natural tan, and her dress sat perfectly on her small, curvy figure. She was short – _very_ short – and her head seemed to be disproportionate to her small body. But her eyes, those soft, baby blue eyes, sparkled just as radiantly up at her, now filled with hope and a deep, painful longing.

"Momma, it's me – it's Carrie." Her eyes were so excited, so bright – so innocent, just as before. "Momma, is that really you? It's been so long since I've seen you."

 _Momma._ What a name. When she was a child, Corrine had never called her own mother "Momma." It would have been too close and too familiar. A mother like Corrine's mother demanded complete, utter respect, and any affectionate variation of "mother" just wouldn't do. And, like Malcolm had said, pet names were "weak" and showed unnecessary vulnerability. One's title was their title, and petty emotional ties couldn't override the title's function.

But when Corrine had children of her own, she fixed that. Straight away with Christopher, it was never "Mother" but always "Momma." Oh, how the children flocked to her then, sweetly calling her "Momma" before putting their little arms up and letting her hug and kiss them! How Christopher used to scrunch up his nose in delight and kiss her back, how Cathy would rest her head on Corrine's chest while touching her hair, how Cory had clung on tightly to her embrace and whispered that he loved her…

 _Cory._ Another sad, forbidden memory. Those soft blue eyes and frail, shrinking bones haunted Corrine to that very day, but she could never, ever reveal it. As she stared down at Carrie, feeling heartbroken for her twin and full of guilt for the girl's own life, Corrine knew what she had to do; she knew that she had to be strong.

"I don't know you." Corrine's eyes turned cold, and Carrie merely stared. "I don't have any children."

"But, Momma, it's _me_." Corrine could see the panic that surged through Carrie's eyes and her little body. Her hands started moving nervously, just as Corrine's did, and Corrine's own hands threatened to move up to her pearl necklace with the diamond butterfly clasp. For a moment, Corrine's eyes revealed a deep, long-contained sorrow, but almost instantly, she shielded it behind glass – frozen, expressionless glass of the most opaque blue.

"You must be mistaken." Oh, the agony! How those beautiful blue eyes broke into delicate, glistening pools! "Now, excuse me."

But as Corrine turned away to leave, to leave and go anywhere but there, her daughter took hold of her hand. Her small, soft fingers intertwined with hers, just like they had back when she was a child. They clung on tightly and gripped Corrine's with a surprising fierceness, and as Corrine turned around again, those eyes bled the most desperate of pleas.

"Momma, you don't have to pretend anymore." Tears started flowing now, and Corrine was rigidly aware that someone could stop and notice this little scene. But even so, she just couldn't look away and couldn't shake away the burning in her heart. "I promise I won't tell anyone. Momma, I just want to talk to you. It's been so long since I've heard your voice and seen your face. Won't you please talk to me? Don't you _want_ to talk to me? Do you not want me anymore, Momma?"

"As I told you twice, _I don't have any children."_ Corrine pulled her hand away and took a step back, trying to glower at the poor, heartbroken girl but merely giving her more of a mutated sort of stare. Secretly, it crushed her heart to do that and not reach out to her and embrace her, but what other choice did she have? "Now, leave me alone."

Oh, how sad the little girl looked! How her pretty face fell and her shoulders slumped; how her entire body crashed down with defeat. It was completely unbearable, and Corrine turned around then, walking briskly to the side of a building with her head held high and her heart trailing invisibly behind her.

But after some minutes had passed, she turned around again, for she couldn't help but double back and take another look.

Carrie was beautiful. It simply stirred butterflies in Corrine's heart to see her daughter so beautiful. She'd always been a cute little girl, and though her looks by no means surpassed those of her sister, they portrayed a delicate portrait of a kind, gentle lady. Corrine wondered what she was doing with her life, for she should be twenty years old by now. Did she have a boyfriend who loved and doted on her? Did she have plans to get married? Would she soon have her own little girl to raise and love? Would she too who be called "Momma"?

Images flashes of a bony, pale little girl vomiting in the attic, and Corrine felt a tear of her own battle to spring loose from her tear ducts. She relived the pain and the misery she had experienced then, feeling helpless as her poor babies got sick all because of her.

It was only for their own good, she had told herself, perhaps crazed by her own euphoria and delirium of a rich, cozy life. She was only making them just sick enough to take them to the hospital, one by one! She would then pretend that they died while hiding them away in a different house, a _real_ house, and they would soon be a true family again.

But that never happened – that would _never_ happen. She would never again kiss and hug her four precious Dresdon Dolls, all spitting images of herself and her dear, darling husband.

A young, baby face again obsessed her thoughts, and Corrine bowed her head, feeling the pain afresh as if it had only just happened. Bart had often wondered why she grew grim and distant around little boys, and of course she could never tell him the truth. Her heart ached and longed for the fresh face of her darling baby boy, but she knew his soul had soared to heaven because of _her_ , and she prayed daily to him to give her peace and sanity as she paid the price of all her sins.

Sighing, Corrine slowly began following Carrie as she roamed around Main Street, looking lost, fragile, and scared – so very, very scared. With a twinge of regret, Corrine realized that it was never Carrie that she had worried about. Carrie had always been so bold and so brazen, so Corrine had thought she would be tough and would adjust. It was Cory who had hay fever and who was susceptible to disease and infections, and it was Cory who had the cuter face and who loved Corrine the way only a young son could.

Had she done the wrong thing by giving him more attention? Did Carrie feel deprived like Cathy did? Was she jealous, hurt, and bitter? After all these years and all this time, would Carrie have it in her heart to forgive her?

"My sweet, sweet girl," Corrine whispered under her breath, watching the blue wave of Carrie's dress disappear as she rounded a corner. "I _do_ want you. I've always wanted you. And I'm here for you, spying from afar." A tear escaped, finding itself nestled on Corrine's cheek. "I _am_ your Momma.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dollanganger Saga.**

 **A/N:** Hello there! Thank you so much to the reviewer and to those who sent me a PM about the story. I really appreciate it! I wasn't actually intending to continue this story (I meant for it to be a one-shot), but I was inspired to continued it, so here we go! Thanks for reading, and please review and let me know what you think of the story!

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Momma's Baby

2

As pathetic as it was, Corinne followed her. Taking care to lower her bonnet and keep her distance, Corrine followed Carrie's shadow as if she were a moth seeking a flame. She watched as Carrie hustled through the street and finished her errands. She stopped to buy fruit from one vendor and handmade soap from another, chat with a salesman and adjust her shopping bags; she went on with her life as if nothing had just happened, and Corrine desperately wondered what her daughter was thinking.

Even though Corrine couldn't read Carrie's mind, she could read her face – her small, porcelain face. Stemming back to her childhood, Carrie's face was always full of expressions. When Carrie had fallen as a toddler, Corrine could tell when the tears would come. Her face would squint and grow red, her little pink mouth would scrunch up, and her eyebrows would furrow ever so slightly before the girl wailed and stomped her foot as she began to cry.

Even now, Corrine could see the reddening of the girl's cheeks and the furrowing of her brows, and with emotion spreading from her heart, Corrine knew that Carrie was trying her hardest not to cry. All because of _her,_ Corrine realized – all because of what Corrine had done fifteen years ago and what she had done fifteen minutes ago.

Oh, how grown she is now, and how much Corrine missed her! How she wished she could rush over to her little girl and kiss her fair skin and run her fingers through her delicately-styled curls! It'd been so long since Corrine had felt that aching and yearning, and now that it had appeared out from the deepest corner of her heart, she feared she would burst from it all.

Carrie seemed to have finished her shopping for she started walking briskly over to the end of the shopping strip. Afraid to lose her, Corrine picked up her pace and increased her stride to a type of speed walk. Her bonnet was still lowered and her shopping bags were still empty, but her eyes were trained solely on Carrie.

"Mrs. Winslow?"

 _Damn it!_ Having no choice but to turn around, Corrine took one last glimpse at the fading figure of Carrie before turning around. A warm smile greeted her, and she recognized the man to be Jeffery Walkins, one of Bart's acquaintances. The problem of being one of the wealthiest socialites in Virginia was having to parlay with everyone of importance, and with an inward sigh, Corrine returned the smile and started the pointless small talk that consumed her empty, meaningless life.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Back so soon?" As Corrine barged into the foyer and set down her empty bags, Bart looked surprised. "And with empty bags? Good lord, Corrine – what's the matter?"

He knew Corrine so well that it disgusted her. Every little habit, every little mannerism – he knew what it meant. Could she ever have secrets? Could she ever avoid explaining the inexplicable?

"Everything's fine, darling," she sighed, taking off her bonnet and putting her purse down on the coffee table. "I'm just feeling tired today. I think I'll go lay down for a nap."

Thankfully he didn't follow her, so when Corrine left the foyer and went into the grand hall of Foxworth mansion, she made a right and went instead to the kitchen, where she pulled out a phone book. The servants were staring at her nervously, perhaps wondering if she was going to fire them and call for new help, but Corrine ignored them as she searched in the phone book, hoping to find at least a _hint_ as to where she could be.

Finally, after searching through all the M listings before moving on to the S listings, Corrine found her – Catherine Sheffield. Why had she changed her name back to Sheffield? Corrine knew that she and the others had lived with a Paul Sheffield back in South Carolina, but why go from Marquet to Sheffield? Especially when moving to a new place like Virginia?

Quite honestly, Corrine was very tempted to call, but instead she wrote down the address, hoping that Carrie still lived with her sister and that she could find both of them. She shoved the book away and tucked the piece of paper into her bra until finally retreating up to the swan room, taking the desperately needed break from her whirling, emotional mind.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The next morning when Bart left for work, Corrine collected her things and then made her way out, clutching that piece of paper as if it were her lifeline. She took a cab to a stop a little ways away and then walked toward the house, her heart racing.

What was Corrine doing? She honestly didn't know, and she was starting to second guess herself. After all these years she didn't respond to a single one of their letters – all those desperate letters – yet now she felt something after running into one of them? Hadn't she seen Cathy perform in New York and felt perfectly content to admire her from a distance? Hadn't she read about Christopher in one of the South Carolina newspapers and hadn't felt the slightest desire to see him?

Human emotions were strange, powerful concepts, and Corrine couldn't even pretend to understand them. Seeing Carrie awakened something inside of her, and now she _had_ to see it through. She just had to! At any cost!

Their house was easy enough to find. Alone in a quaint strip of forest, the house stood gloriously tall in the bright morning sunshine and seemed to warmly welcome Corrine to its depths. Indeed, she felt a stupid sort of giddiness as she stole away to the back and peaked into the windows, her breathing picking up rapidly and her heartbeat fidgeting uncontrollably. This could finally be the day she broke her silence and talked to her darling babies, and it could be the day that her heart lifted up forever. Corrine had no idea what she was doing and had no idea what to expect, and it wasn't until she heard a set of voices outside on the deck that she finally came to her senses.

"I'm telling you, Cathy, it was the strangest thing," a male voice was saying, an achingly _familiar_ male voice.

"Well, I don't presume to be an expert on all things Corrine." The young voice was high-pitched and clear, and Corrine could only gasp. _Cathy._ "Some high-end curtain probably sold out at the tailor's and it threw her into a depression. But even more importantly, Bart, does it look like I even care? Shut up, take your shirt off, and get inside. I haven't got all day, you know. Carrie and Jory will be back soon."

Daring to pause at the edge of the house and peer behind the corner, Corrine caught a glimpse of her lithe, beautiful daughter pulling her tall, well-built husband into the house by the end of his tie, his soothing voice erupting into laughter before tapering off to the slick sounds of lips meeting.

With the abrupt slamming of the backdoor, Corrine blinked quickly, turned tail, and fled.

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What will happen next? Will Corrine ever confront Carrie and talk to her? Stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dollanganger Saga.**

 **A/N:** Hi! I know it's been forever since I updated this story, but I've been going through all my stories lately and I really would like to continue with this one. I think it has such potential, and when I first wrote it, I was so into the series and so into the characters!

This chapter is short and my updates may not be regular, but here we are. I hope you like it! Please review and let me know what you think of the story. I would love to hear everyone's thoughts and opinions on Corrine and any possible reconciliation with her children.

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Momma's Baby

Chapter 3

Bart didn't come home that night. At eight thirty, he had phoned the house and told Corrine about some kind of late business deal the firm was working on. He needed to "stay at the office" to finish all the reports; he had to "take one for the team" and get it all done.

Corrine knew the truth, though. It was now six in the morning, and she knew that he was probably still sleeping in Cathy's bed – in her _daughter's_ bed. He would probably wake up to play with Cathy's baby and share some short, awkward exchanges with Carrie before sneaking out the back and coming back to Foxworth Hall, yawning about how hard and difficult his job was.

"Cheating asshole," Corrine muttered under her breath, taking off her sleep mask and running a hand through her hair. She didn't normally swear (her mother had told her that women who swore had a special place in hell), but this wasn't a normal occasion.

Indeed, her entire life had blown up over the past eighteen hours. Carrie came up to her on the street, Corrine went over to their house, Bart was having an affair with Cathy – everything that could possibly go wrong _did._ After Corrine made her decision and decided to run with the money, she had devoted her life to keeping up with the appearance that she so desperately had fought to create. She couldn't take back what she did and she couldn't alleviate the damage done, but she could prevent anything else happening; she could prevent making it even worse.

But what if she didn't want to? Sitting there in her bed, lost in a swath of ruffled, cream silk sheets, Corrine thought about it. Visions of her gauntly babies haunted her dreams each and every night, and in the very center of her aching, breaking heart was that tempting desire to reach out to them and to hold them once more. She'd plotted a thousand schemes of running into Cathy after one of her shows or showing up at Christopher's hospital, pulling them aside and begging for them to let her explain. She'd imagined their reactions and anticipated their hurt, but most of all, she yearned for their approval and wished for their forgiveness.

Out in the streets of Charlottesville, Carrie had been receptive – _Carrie_ had been willing to cross that invisible border and make contact. That was surprising since Carrie hadn't been that old when they escaped and since Carrie could barely even remember her mother, but at the same time, that might have been exactly why.

Not really knowing what she was doing, Corrine reached down into her bra and pulled out that piece of paper, her fingers trembling as she unfolded it and stared down at the phone number. Her heart racing, she reached over to the nightstand and pulled out the phone, holding the receiver to her right ear.

Very carefully, she pressed the buttons one-by-one until she heard a ring, her heartbeat audible as she sat there and waited.


End file.
